


two of a kind

by honey_wheeler



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Drugs, F/M, Non-Canon Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during <i>Casino Night</i>. Jan needs a distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two of a kind

The bad thing about office events is that you can’t really vent about your job. Which is what Ryan likes to do when he drinks. Well, not _likes to do_ , so much as _is driven to do_. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why his friends have been busy so much lately. At least there’s gambling at this event. Though Michael did try to make Ryan kiss his dice at the craps table earlier, so that’s not as much of a plus as it might have been.

He hits his breaking point when Kelly puts down her fourth empty glass and informs him that they should name their first daughter Miranda. Instead of answering, he feigns a sneezing attack and rushes outside. God. Miranda? If Kelly wants a whole set of _Sex and the City_ daughters, he doesn’t want to know about it.

The air outside is cooler than he expected and he sucks in a lungful, expelling it on a sigh. It isn’t until she shifts and turns towards him that he realizes Jan is leaning against the wall next to the door, half in shadow, cigarette in hand.

“Jan,” he nods. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets, rocks back on his heels. She slowly tilts her head in return. Something about the movement seems off. She doesn’t seem like the crisp, frostily polite Jan Levinson he’s used to.

“What’s with the long face, kid?” she asks. He’s surprised at how informal she is until he remembers that she was at the bar with a fresh drink every time Kelly dispatched him for a new round of embarrassment with sugar on the rim. Jan moves closer, her limbs loose and careless, her eyes slightly unfocused. _What the hell,_ he decides. She probably won’t remember this tomorrow anyway.

“I’ve been ordering girly drinks all night and every time my girlfriend isn’t hounding me and making me uncomfortable, my boss is.” Jan looks at him thoughtfully, takes a deep drag off her cigarette.

“Yeah, well, I drove two and a half hours in rush hour traffic and my jeans are so tight that every time I sneeze I turn myself on, and I _still_ got thrown over for a realtor,” she tells him, raising an eyebrow as if in challenge.

Ryan considers that for a moment. “You win,” he concedes.

“Exactly.” Her nod is satisfied, if a bit wobbly. Then she looks down at her cigarette and back at him. “You got anything stronger than this?”

“Um.” He studies her face, tries to gauge how serious she is. “Are you asking as my superior?”

“I’m asking as someone who needs something stronger than this,” she answers, pausing before adding, “and someone who doesn’t want to have worn her hottest underwear for nothing.”

 _Well,_ he thinks. _No mistaking that._

“Let me get my keys,” he says.

*****

Much to Ryan’s surprise, Jan smokes like a pro. It’s strong shit but she doesn’t even cough. His roommate’s going to be mad that Ryan used the last of the pot, but whatever, he can just get more from his brother this weekend when the bastard comes over to steal their food and use up the last of the laundry detergent like every other weekend.

She looks out of place in his apartment. He wishes he’d bothered to clean it this morning. Or even this month. Even when she’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch she looks refined, professional. It kind of makes him feel like he’s smoking out with his teacher or something. His, admittedly, really hot teacher. Whose shirt is gapping to show the curve of her lace-covered breast and whose hand is currently resting on his thigh right next to the inseam of his pants. A couple inches farther up and she’ll know that the hot underwear definitely wasn’t for nothing. This is probably a really bad idea.

“I can’t believe I drove all the way out here,” she’s saying. Again. For the third time in an hour.

“Me neither,” Ryan tells her honestly. “I mean…Michael? For serious?” Then he laughs at how stupid he sounds saying _for serious_. Everyone else is playing roulette in the warehouse hoping to win a mini-fridge, and he and Jan are smoking pot on his living room floor with her hand practically on his dick. That makes him laugh too.

“He just…I don’t know, he _does_ something to me,” she says. “He makes me feel…”

“Nauseated?” Ryan suggests. “Hunted? Like you’ll never be clean again?” She grimaces and passes him back the joint with a curt suggestion to zip it. Then, almost absently, she slides her hand up his leg, over his crotch, and squeezes lightly. He makes a strange, yelping noise and she smiles indulgently.

“What say we check out that underwear now?” she says, her hand still moving and making it hard for him to breathe let alone think. He can only squeak in response and be glad he at least changed his sheets recently.

*****

She’s long gone when he wakes up the next morning. He can smell her hair on the pillow still and he keeps his eyes closed for a minute so he can pretend she’s still there, that she isn’t halfway back to the city by now. When he finally forces himself out of bed, he finds a note from her, scribbled on the back of a sheet of pizza coupons. _Ryan_ , it says. _Thanks. Let’s never speak of this again. Jan._ He sighs and crumples the paper into a ball. It might have been nice if she’d stayed. He dismisses the thought, though. She’s still his boss. Technically. Even if she did fuck his brains out the night before.

It’s not until he’s in the shower that it occurs to him to wonder which one of them Michael would be more jealous of. He shudders and scrubs extra hard with the soap. Some things are better left unexamined.


End file.
